33. Clash of Stone and Steel #2
She stopped, uncertain how to describe what had happened.
She’d put Samhail in a vulnerable and exposed position – both literally and figuratively – and in hindsight she didn’t blame him for being furious at her.
She could only imagine how she might’ve felt if things were reversed and a masque had come to her as someone she trusted. She shuddered now to think about it.
“It was a violation,” she said finally, “and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“How far were you planning to take it?” he asked.
Talyn’s eyes flicked back to his. She could see the blue in them again, and that eased her mind.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I hadn’t planned to do half of what I did. It…it was good you stopped me because your guess is as good as mine how much further I would’ve taken it.”
“Why?” he asked, his brows knitting together again. “You say you didn’t plan to do half of it, so why did you do any of it?”
Talyn opened her mouth to explain, but she had no idea what to say. She was spared from trying to come up with an answer when a knock sounded at the door, making both her and Samhail jump.
Talyn got up and opened the door, Fred hidden behind her back. A man in his thirties with dark brown skin and a neatly trimmed black beard stood in the hallway.
“I’m Caleb,” the man said. “I was told you needed a healer?”
“Yes, come in,” Talyn said. She opened the door for him and put the dagger back onto the dresser.
Caleb entered and took in Samhail lying on the bed. Like the innkeeper, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the warrior, but he recovered quickly and went over to examine Samhail.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We were attacked by outlaws,” Talyn said.
“He was hit with crossbow bolts. The heads were made of caronium, and it looks like the tips were meant to break off and embed in the wound. I managed to get one tip out with some tweezers, but he hasn’t fully recovered his powers.
Either I missed a piece of the bolt or there’s a second one in his stomach. Is there any chance you’re perimortal?”
Caleb looked between them, seeming uncertain. Then he nodded.
“Only a few people in town know I’m perimortal,” he said, “but yes. I have a little power. Just keep that to yourself please. Some people in these small towns still fear our kind.”
Talyn stepped back as Caleb extended his hands out to hover over Samhail, his power searching the battle-hardened body for injuries.
She breathed a sigh of relief that he was a perimortal healer and not a mortal one.
She would’ve taken either at this point, but it was far better for Samhail to have a perimortal given their situation.
Caleb placed his hand lightly over the wound on Samhail’s side.
“You weren’t hurt?” he asked her over his shoulder as he worked.
“No, I’m fine,” Talyn said.
Caleb hesitated a moment before asking, “And the outlaws?”
“Beyond your abilities to help,” she answered.
Caleb stilled, then nodded. He was quiet for several minutes before he lifted his hand to reveal that the wound in Samhail’s side was now gone, except for a lightly pink scar.
Talyn pushed out a long breath in relief.
Caleb hovered his hand over the stomach wound next and frowned.
“What is it?” Talyn asked.
“I feel the caronium,” he said. “You were right. There’s still a piece.”
“Can you get it out?” she asked.
“I should be able to,” Caleb said.
He turned his attention to Samhail. “You’re… a gargoyle?” he asked tentatively, glancing at Talyn.
“Yes,” Samhail said, his voice hard. “Is that an issue?”
“Not at all,” Caleb assured him quickly. “It just helps to know all the details before I heal someone. There can be subtle but important differences between fully human perimortals and demi-human ones.”
Caleb held his hand over Samhail’s wound, and when he pulled it back, a small piece of caronium hovered just above his palm.
He dropped the tip on the nightstand where Talyn had put the other.
He placed his hand back on top of the wound, and when he pulled it away again minutes later, the hole was completely closed up.
Lastly, Caleb turned his attention to the slash on Samhail’s leg, and about a minute later he sat back to examine the newly healed wound.
“I couldn’t fully prevent the scars,” Caleb said to Samhail, indicating the slightly raised pink skin where the wound on his stomach had been, “but I did my best to make them minimal. I’m not a terribly powerful perimortal, so my abilities have their limitations.”
“They’re not my first scars, and they won’t be my last,” Samhail said. “I probably needed a few more anyway. Thank you.”
Caleb nodded and stood up. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Was anyone else hurt?”
“No,” Talyn said. “Thank you for your help.”
Caleb nodded. “Very well. I’m heading home. Let me know if you need anything else before you leave town. I suggest you stay here tonight and rest before moving on.” He looked at Samhail. “You lost a lot of blood, and that’s something your body will have to replace on its own.”
Samhail fished in his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. He tossed it to Caleb, who caught it and nodded his thanks.
Talyn walked Caleb to the door and saw him out.
When she turned back, Samhail was standing up. She looked down at the blood streaked across the blanket and moved toward the bed to start pulling it off.
“I’ll get you some new bedding from the innkeeper,” she said as she balled up the stained sheets and blanket and moved to leave.
“Get us some new bedding,” he corrected.
Talyn paused at the door. “The inn isn’t full,” she said. “There’s no reason for us to share a room.”
“Nevertheless, we will.”
Talyn huffed a laugh. “You still don’t trust me not to run, even after I saved your life?”
“I’m grateful to you for helping me, but I need you to stay where I can keep an eye on you. I’m already operating outside the bounds of what Bressen would condone. If he found out I let you have your own room…”
Samhail trailed off, and Talyn’s face hardened.
“Of course,” she said bitterly. “We wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with Lord Bressen. Can I go get new bedding now, or do you need to accompany me to do that as well?”
Samhail frowned but nodded his head toward the door to indicate she could go. Talyn turned without another word and stalked off.
She found the innkeeper easily enough, and he insisted on accompanying her back to the room to help make the bed himself.
He brought up some dinner with him as well.
Samhail was standing where she’d left him, and the innkeeper set to work as she and Samhail ate.
When the bed was remade and the innkeeper left, the room was silent again as Talyn and Samhail looked at each other.
“Your bed is ready,” she said as she sat down in one of the chairs. She threw one leg over the other and crossed her arms.
“Our bed,” he corrected her again.
“Oh no,” Talyn said. “You can make me sleep in the same room as you, but you can’t make me sleep in the same bed.”
“Actually, I can,” he said and started toward her.
“What are you doing?” Talyn asked as she sat up in the chair. She uncrossed her legs and arms, ready to move. “Lie down. You’re supposed to be resting.”
Samhail didn’t answer but just reached down as if he planned to pick her up in his arms. She instantly ported across the room.
He didn’t seem surprised. Instead, he simply changed course to pursue her on the other side.
“What are you doing?” she repeated as she backed away from him. He kept coming, and she ported again to the opposite side of the room when he got close.
“I can do this all night,” she said, as he turned once again to face her.
“Can you?” he asked. “Because I seemed to recall the night we chased you through Bressen’s house that your porting power was starting to wane by the end. I suspect there’s a limit to the number of times you can do it before you need to rest.”
Talyn stiffened, and she knew he could see the truth of his theory in her posture.
“The question is,” he said, “whether you really want to wear yourself down making me chase you all over this room in my weakened state for the next half hour, or whether you just want to save us both some trouble and get into bed.”
Talyn glared at him, then eyed the bed. It wouldn’t be so bad to sleep with him. They’d done it in the woods. This wasn’t any different…
“You can transform into Cyra before you come to bed if it makes you feel any better,” Samhail said, his tone sardonic.
Talyn jerked her head back to him. There hadn’t been any real venom in his voice, but there was something about the look in his eyes that suggested he hadn’t fully forgiven her yet.
Or maybe he wanted her to come to bed looking like Cyra?
“I apologized for that,” she said.
“But you never answered my question about why you did it.”
She wasn’t sure why the question made her angry, but it did. He had every right to ask it, but she still felt her temper rise as he looked at her.
“I don’t know why I did it,” she snapped. “Maybe I was just trying to break you. You seemed so resistant to touching me – her – and I wanted to see what it would take to make you give in.”
Talyn glared at him across the room, something she seemed destined to do several times a day now.
She couldn’t read his expression, but when he stepped toward her, there was something different than anger in his eyes, something feral.
He crossed the distance between them slowly, and Talyn planted her feet, promising she wouldn’t retreat this time.
Samhail stopped directly in front of her, and she raised her eyes defiantly to him. She always forgot how gods damned big he was.
“I think I know why you did it,” he said huskily.
She crossed her arms. “Oh? Do tell.”